


Rituals Gone Wrong (For the Better)

by Shadowsandstarlight



Series: Requests [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abused Harry Potter, Dolores Umbridge Bashing, Dolores Umbridge Being an Asshole, Dolores Umbridge is Her Own Warning, Good Albus Dumbledore, Good Severus Snape, Like only a sprinkle of dumbledore bashing, M/M, Mentor Severus Snape, Misguided Albus Dumbledore, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parental Severus Snape, Potion Brewing (Harry Potter), Protective Severus Snape, Severus Snape Adopts Harry Potter, Tired Harry Potter, bc he’s still a good person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:07:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27769534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowsandstarlight/pseuds/Shadowsandstarlight
Summary: Over the years at Hogwarts, Harry Potter had started to expect all sort of stuff to happen to him and was usually on high alert. What he had not expected, however, was to be kidnapped and thrown into a ritual that goes horribly wrong, and now Snape is acting so out of character it’s frankly terrifying to witness. And worst of all? The Potions Master’s point of focus is none other than Harry himself.In the meantime, however, Voldemort is still a present threat and so are his Death Eaters, while Hogwarts also has to deal with the Minister’s own nightmarish Undersecretary, Dolores Umbridge. Through all of this, there also the matter of his little crush to be dealt with...
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Severus Snape
Series: Requests [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2031466
Comments: 45
Kudos: 145





	1. Students Out of Bed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LivingDeaDGirl244](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivingDeaDGirl244/gifts).



> So excited to write this! 
> 
> This fic was a request from LivingDeaDGirl244, and here’s the full request: 
> 
> Professor Snape gets cursed with a bond spell to Harry, making him loving, protective, and very possessive of him, the only way for the curse to break is if Harry grows to love Snape as a son, will he?  
> Top Draco  
> Bottom Harry
> 
> Of course, I’ve also filled in the rest of the fic with my other stuff, ya know? Anyways I do hope everyone enjoys reading this :P

Severus Snape stalked through the deserted hallways of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, black robes billowing behind him in their usual, infamous fashion. 

The glower on his face would’ve sent any of his students sprinting as far away from him as possible, but as it was about 1 a.m. most of them were in their dormitories sound asleep, completely oblivious to the world outside of their dreams. 

Severus only wished the same could be said for the group of students that had broken into one of the Potions labs; the dunderheads truly thought just because the lab was less used than the other ones he wouldn’t be keeping an eye on it, much less have it warded. 

_ Really, what could they even be doing there? _ He thought with a silent grumble, glaring harder as he reached the classroom. Faint light spilled from under the closed door, and Severus could hear hushed murmurs and mutters.  _ The dunderheads did not even have the forethought to cast silencing and privacy charms, but that only makes things easier for me.  _

Severus decided to wait for a moment, and instead cast the usual spell he used for safely eavesdropping on the Death Esters; it was a rather complicated charm that made the wall in front of him visible, only from his side, and would dictate what each person said on a parchment for him to read at a later time while he observed their body language, gestures, and whatever else they might have had with them at the current time. 

The plan of waiting and observing patiently went out of the window the second he saw what was behind the wall. 

Potter ( _ why is it always him!? _ ) was tied to a chair, a big bruise blooming on his right cheek. The boy was dead to the world— and more importantly, to the six Seventh Year students surrounding him. Two Gryffindors, three Ravenclaws, and one Slytherin, all of them having their wands in their hands and pointed at Potter’s slumped form, tips glowing a sickly yellow Severus has not seen before. 

Honestly, he shouldn’t have even been surprised that of all students, it was Potter tied there; ever since the brat stepped foot past Hogwarts’ wards, they had to deal with his insane, yearly shenanigans that left them always short of a Defense teacher, not to mention keeping everything under wraps and away from the Ministry’s ears. And while they had successfully managed to keep the mirror of Erised and the Basilisk a secret, they didn’t have the same luck when Black broke into the school (not to mention Lupin’s  _ condition _ ) and after that came the Tournament (along with Cedric Diggory’s death). Those four incidents were the reason why, this year, they’d been  _ graced _ with none other than the Minister’s own Undersecretary, Dolores Umbridge, who made Severus’ eyes hurt each and every time he looked at her pink robes.

Grumbling silently, Severus pushed the door open with a  _ bang!  _ that echoed. This startled the students, who turned to him with panic in their gazes after they flinched and jolted from his unexpected and frankly violent entrance. “What is the meaning of this?” He asked with a withering glare, and took enjoyment when one of the Gryffindors and the lone Slytherin whimpered in fright at his expression. What he remained oblivious to, however, was the three runic circles the students had drawn in charcoal on the stone floor; the first circle was drawn around the chair Harry was tied to, the second was a few inches away from the first and the students were situated atop it, and the last circle encompassed the entire room, its edge just a few centimeters away from the door and, consequently, Severus himself. 

Severus was confused— and enraged— as to why the lab had been stripped bare of everything it had held before, especially the dried ingredients he’d kept on hand for whenever his main cabinets were running low on certain ingredients. Still, loathe as he was to admit, Potter’s safety came before his poor lab’s bare state.

His glower darkening even further, Severus snapped at the students. “Drop your wands now, you dunderheads! Not only have you broken curfew and more than likely  _ kidnapped _ Potter, but you’re also casting a spell on him! Do you have  _ any  _ idea how serious this is?—“ 

Severus’ tirade was broken, abruptly, by one of the Ravenclaws turning back to Harry with a determined look on his face, and his wand glowing the same sickly green as before. The Potions Master had no chance to even get angry before the Ravenclaw screamed a garbled spell and yellow light rushed at Potter— at Harry. It was then that the runic circles glowed bright golden— and Severus wanted nothing more than to hit himself for not noticing it sooner. 

In fact, Severus only had the time to rush inside and past the biggest circle to barrel himself right at Harry’s unconscious form. His fast movements had resulted in him pushing the rest of the students (even the assailant) out of their circle and instead into the space between the second and third circle, where although they still provided magic for the ritual, it was significantly less of an amount than before. 

Still, even with the speed with which he rushed for Potter, he was only able to drape one arm over him just before the spell hit them both, and then— 

He knew no more than the darkness of Morpheus’ realm. 

+++ 

Harry Potter subconsciously knew that he was asleep— that was why he was very much confused as to why he felt  _ safe _ , of all things. 

Usually, whatever he remembered from his dreams were flashes of the Dursleys, or whatever nightmare he had dealt with at Hogwarts. But this time, all he felt were the soft caresses of someone's magic, curling around him the same way a cat would wound itself around its owner’s legs. 

_ This is nice,  _ he decided, as the person’s magic (huh, he swore he felt this person before, but  _ where _ ) wrapped around him even more protectively, much like how Harry would cover himself with his Cloak. 

With a content hum, Harry chose not to ponder on the matter any longer and instead, reveled in the overall pleasantness of his situation. 

It was not often that he got to relax like this, after all.


	2. Chapter Two: Confusion All Around

“So this is it?” Demanded Minerva McGonagall, lips pursed thin as she stared at the two bedridden patients, both still unconscious from the blast in the potions lab. 

Her wife, Madame Pomfrey and Hogwarts’ resident mediwitch, nodded curtly, her wand once more pointed at Severus and casting the same spell she’s been doing for the last three hours. 

The results remained, frustratingly, the same.

“It should be different!” She said with an irritated frown, putting her wand back in its holster and throwing the parchment into the pile of the earlier results. “Mr. Potter’s magic nearly blew up half of my equipment, and Severus’ burned the sheets and the curtain around his bed. Obviously something is wrong, yet none of my tests come up with anything that could help me figure out  _ why _ !” 

The mediwitch grumbled as she moved, now looking over the rest of the students— who maybe, possibly, more than likely, were the ones who started this whole confusion of a mess, with the evidence of their botched ritual still glowing with residual magic upon the floors of the lab according to Albus. 

“At least these ones were easy to treat, I believe they got the least of the backlash, though I wish I could say the same for Severus and Mr. Potter.” she said finally, moving back to her wife’s side. Upon noticing the downturn of Minerva’s lips, she sighed and took the other woman’s hand in hers. 

“We must wait until they wake up, love, until then there’s nothing I can do. If they don’t wake up in the next twenty four hours, then we can truly start worrying. In the meantime— has Albus found out anything about what ritual they used or how they got Harry there in the first place?” 

“No, he’s still scouring through the Library and his own private collections. He said he’s never seen some of the runes in the circles before, and considering he didn’t even know what the students chanted or did beforehand, it’s hard to come to a clear conclusion.” Minerva pinched the bridge of her nose, already knowing— and dreading— the inevitable headache. Still, she squeezed her wife’s hand back, drawing comfort from the familiar gesture.

“And what about our dear Umbridge? I’m surprised she isn’t here already, ready to inform all of us how useless and disgraceful we are at our jobs,” Pomfrey raised an eyebrow, derision in her tone. She was, clearly, still rather miffed at how the squashed woman had the audacity to _discreetly_ insult the staff whenever she decided to… grace them with her presence, be it at any time of the day. 

“Gone to the Ministry before this mess happened, thank Merlin. I believe she’ll return on Monday, so we have at least two days more or less to fix this, whatever  _ this _ is.” 

With that said, the two women went back to their chambers hand in hand, as it was only 4:30 a.m. in the morning.

+++

Half an hour later, at precisely 5 o’clock, a single strand of pure, chaotic magic leaped from Severus’ chest, the man only groaning inaudibly. Still, even with what was happening, he remained fast asleep, breaths even and deep. 

The single strand twirled and twisted in the air, still attached to the Potions Master, but it was soon enough met by another strand— this one thinner, as its owner was still quite young and has not reached magical maturity, and paler, coming from young Harry in the same spot the first had reached out from Severus.

The two strands entwined and twisted around one another, to the point where they were irrevocably tied and no mere person, magical or otherwise, would be able to separate them for any purposes, regardless of intention. But what was worth noting, however, was that people would not be able to  _ even _ see such a spectacle with their bare eyes, much less  _ touch  _ it.

The ‘contact’ had the student and his Professor relaxing, the former smiling slightly in his sleep while the latter breathed out softly. 

The strands slowly merged further, to the point where they resembled a bright sphere of sparkling energy. Or, should a muggle-born had seen it, to one of those snowballs that become popular around Christmas. 

In the dim light of the early morning, the two strands of this spectacular sphere held each other protectively, gentle even with how mixed they were. The best way to describe it would be— 

A parent and their child. 


End file.
